As the shouts of laughter elicited by the host's remark rang through the hall, drowning the muttered response of the comedian, Leta glided softly and rapidly from behind the screen of tapestry which veiled the open doorway. There, crouching out of sight, she had remained concealed for the last hour--watching the revellers through a crevice in the needlework, and vainly hoping, either in the words or face of Sergius, to detect some tone or expression indicative of regretful thought or recollection of herself. When at last her name had been mentioned, for a moment she had eagerly held her breath, lest she might lose one syllable from which an augury of her fate could be drawn. Then, repressing, with a violent effort, the cry of despair which rose to her lips, upon hearing herself thus coolly and disdainfully surrendered as the stake of a game of dice, and with less apparent regret than would have been felt for the loss of a single gold piece, she drew the folds of her dress closely about her and passed out. Out through the antechamber--down the stairway--and into the central court; no other purpose guiding her footsteps than that of finding some place where she could reflect, without disturbance, upon the fate before her. In that heated hall she must have died; but it might be that in the cool, open air, she could conquer the delirium which threatened to overwhelm her, and could thus regain her self-control. If only for five minutes, it might be well. With her quick energy and power of decision, even five minutes of cool, deliberate counsel with herself might suffice to shape and direct her whole future life. Hardly realizing how she had come there, she found herself sitting upon the coping of the courtyard fountain. The night was dark, for thick clouds shut out the gleam of moon and stars. No one could see her, nor was it an hour when any one was likely to be near. From one end to the other the court was deserted, except by herself. No light, other than the faint glow from the windows of the banquet hall upon the story above her. No sound beyond the sullen splash of the water falling into the marble basin of the fountain. There was now but little to interfere with deliberate reflection. What demon had possessed the Fates that they should have brought this lot upon her? It could not be the destiny which had been marked out for her from the first. That had been a different one, she was sure. Her instinct had whispered peace and success to her. Such were the blessings which should have been unravelled for her from off the twirling spindle; but some malignant spirit must have substituted another person's deserved condemnation in place of her more kindly lot.